


Rose-Colored

by Two_Candles



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Crack, Don't Ignore Experiments Guys, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Miko is Observant, Science is Rad, Senpai Notice Me, Vehicons Adore Breakdown, fluff before the storm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-04-27 16:49:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5056264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Two_Candles/pseuds/Two_Candles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is where I keep my light-hearted, fun Transformers oneshots. Mostly silly fluff and crack, with occasional attempts at humor. Unbeata'd, unpredictably updated, and unashamed! (mostly.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Theories

**Description:** Miko has theories about the history between Megatron, Ratchet, and Orion Pax, and expresses them with her usual tact. 

**Notes:** Wait, I can explain! This came about because my husband, who is normally The Anti-Shipper, casually revealed the other day that he has elaborate headcannons for Megatron/Orion and Ratchet/Orion. To say this was surprising would be a massive understatement. So baby, this is for you. :D

 

"Soo," Miko began with the drawl that was always a precursor to trouble, "back in the day on Cybertron, Megs and Orion were close, right? Like, really close." She was lying on the couch, staring up at the ceiling of the bunker with a calculating expression. Jack and Raf turned from their game to stare at her. 

"Close?" Raf asked uncertainly.

"' _Megs_ '?" Jack was somewhat more incredulous. 

Miko didn't appear to be listening. "And Ratchet and Orion were super close too, right? _super_ close." Now she was grinning. Raf cringed, looking across the room at Ratchet, who didn't appear to have heard.

Jack's eyes widened with slowly dawning suspicion. "Miko, where are you going with this?"

"Soo... do you think they were jelly?" she said, suddenly springing into a seated position. The two boys now wore matching expressions of confusion. "You know, jealous! Of each other!" She flailed her arms around for emphasis, almost toppling over before moving to sit on the arm of the couch, and her grin brightened a few notches.

"Um, Miko-" whatever damage control Jack was attempting was cut off by Miko's excited outburst.

"And now I bet Megatron is all like, 'Rrrr, I miss my cute boyfriend!'" her voice dipped into what was probably intended to be a deep growl. Jack looked like his brain was breaking, while Raf had taken over Miko-shushing duty, and was waving his arms at her. She cheerfully ignored him. "And way back when, Ratchet was probably all sad, and tragic, and being all like, 'I wish he was _my_ cute boyfriend!'" Miko's attempt to reproduce a 'gruff, no-nonsense' tone was only marginally more successful than her previous effort. "And now I bet he's like, 'Haha, you scrapheap, I win! Now his kisses are mine!' Muah, muah!" She held up her hands as if she were holding sock puppets, and proceeded to mash her fingertips together while making kissing sounds. After a moment of this, she looked around triumphantly at her audience. 

Jack was staring at her wide-eyed, his brows somewhere in his hairline. His mouth was open slightly, but no sound emerged. Raf had his hands over his mouth, and his eyes were darting between her and the groundbridge station where Ratchet was working, apparently oblivious to the goings-on. Slowly the two boys appeared to reboot, and both drew breath at once. "Miko-"

"Miko!" All three turned and realized, to their mutual horror, that Ratchet had left the workstation and was approaching the loft. He loomed over the couch, imposing in a way the 'bots rarely were, and stared down at them. " _Do not_ mention this little theory in Optimus' hearing." He looked away. "He is... a great deal more sensitive than he appears." His expressive faceplates shifted, and now he looked a bit annoyed and... chagrined? Jack blinked as the towering robot appeared almost to blush. 

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Miko asked with a smile. Ratchet’s optics went wide and he sputtered for a moment, then turned and stalked back to his work without a word, leaving the children staring at each other.

"Um..." Raf started, even as Jack began muttering, "Well-"

"I called it!" cheered Miko, throwing up her hands in devil horns. "I so called it! Woo!" She tumbled down from her perch on the arm of the couch, landing in a heap on the cushions. Jack and Raf looked at each other incredulously.

"Huh," said Jack. 

Raf looked down, rubbing the back of his neck. "You know, it's kind of... sweet, isn't it? I mean, maybe it's kind of sad, too, if it really happened like that, but it's nice if they're happy now." He peered up at Jack, his head still tilted down. “I’m glad for them.” Jack smiled at him.

"Yeah, me too." 

"Guys!" Miko was sitting up again, a slightly manic light in her eyes. "Guys, I have another idea! You _have_ to hear this." Jack and Raf gave each other a startled look, then shrugged and picked up their game controllers again, settling in for the inevitable.


	2. Designation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Vehicons are goofing off again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very stuck on how to finish an angsty story about TFP Ratchet's unrequited love for Optimus Prime, so I wrote a fun thing about Vehicons instead. And Breakdown, because apparently I can’t stop writing about Breakdown lately. I dunno. Warning: contains no substance whatsoever.

"Hey, watch it!" The lob ball glanced off of the corridor wall, narrowly missing the locking mechanism of a door. 115-B3N shrugged and picked it up, hefting it slowly. 

"You couldn't hit the aft side of Omega Supreme!" called a flier from the other end of the hall. 115-B3N turned slightly toward him, as if considering a response, then suddenly reeled back, flinging the ball at top speed. It flew past the taunting mech, streaking down the hall - directly into the path of Commander Starscream, who had just rounded the corner. 

Time seemed to slow as the assembled Vehicons prepared for their impending demise - Starscream couldn't tell the difference between them, and wouldn't care even if he could. They were all headed for the scrap heap.

The troopers were saved from deactivation when a huge hand shot out and grabbed the ball just before it connected with the shocked seeker's face. Although his frame shook with the force of the impact, Breakdown seemed completely at ease as he lowered his arm. Starscream, however, looked as though he'd just discovered a scraplet nest in his berth.

"Idiots! Useless, incompetent fools! What are you doing!?" The seeker raged. "Don't you have better things to do than damage your superior officers with your carelessness?"

"It didn't even touch you," Breakdown rumbled. Starscream sputtered.

"Hull duty! All of you!" He snarled, stalking off.

The Vehicons were still rooted to the spot, staring at Breakdown with awe in their visors. 115-B3N stepped forward hesitantly. "You saved our plating, sir," he said, laying a hand on the lob ball that Breakdown still held.

"Be more careful if you don't want to end up as spare parts." The blue mech dropped the ball, which landed with a dense thud that made the whole group jump. He grinned sharply. "And magnetize your pedes, B3N - hull duty's hard on grounders." With that he turned and walked off, leaving the crowd staring after him. 

"Come on," the taunting flier was tugging at 115-B3N, who seemed to be lost in a daze. "Let's get to it before we're scrapped for real."

"He knows my designation..." whispered 115-B3N. His faceplate blazed with heat.


	3. Weird Science

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bitchy, flirtatious science action ftw.

"Hand me that flask." Knock Out held out his hand without looking. After a moment, he made a small, impatient gesture, his optics still focused on the specimen in front of him. Another long moment, and he half turned, his other hand still holding a clamp. 

His current lab assistant was leaning against a counter, arms crossed and wearing an expectant expression. "How do we ask?" he cooed.

Knock Out sighed. "Fine... O Mighty Commander Starscream, _please_ hand me the flask." 

"That's _better_." Starscream moved with exaggerated slowness to retrieve the flask, but once it was handed over he was quick to peer over Knock Out's shoulder at his work. 

"You're crowding me," Knock Out muttered, optics now focused entirely on the metal plate in front of him. In response, the seeker leaned even closer and prodded him with one slender talon. 

"If you're not willing to allow me to observe, I could always summon a trooper to assist you. I'm sure you would find the ensuing spilled chemicals and singed components to be a delightful distraction." The smirk was obvious in his voice, but there was poorly-hidden curiosity as well. 

Knock Out shuddered theatrically, then dipped a pipette into the flask, carefully drawing a small amount of the sickly greenish fluid inside. His expression was serious as he slowly held the instrument over the metal plate and released the liquid, drop by drop. Gradually, as the reaction began to catalyze, he became aware of the claws clutching his pauldrons and grimaced. "Do you _mind_?" 

Starscream released him with a huff. "I can hardly see through your plating, can I? Stop hunching and show me the result of the reaction!" 

"Hunching!?” Knock Out turned to vent his irritation at the other mech. “If _you_ hadn't been practically climbing my wheels, I wouldn't have been forced to lean in!"

“What!?” Starscream’s shriek of indignation was audial-piercing. “If you’re implying that I- look!” Knock Out followed the line of the pointing digit to the experiment, which had begun to blister and bubble grotesquely. Their impending quarrel forgotten, the two turned back to the table, jostling each other as they went. This time it was Starscream who ended up in the coveted position directly in front of their project, and he immediately leaned in to observe. Knock Out hovered behind him, his view obscured by the seeker’s wings. He began tapping one of the offending appendages with a clawed finger. “Um, Starscream, I’ll need to be able to see what’s going on if we want to learn anything from this experiment.”

“Quiet,” the seeker replied. His normally sharp tone seemed muted, and he stared at the roiling plate intently. Knock Out’s optics flickered.

“You know,” the red mech began, “I admit I was surprised when you showed an interest in this project.” He shifted to one side, trying again see the table. “I had no idea that you were scientifically inclined.” He clung to the edge of a wing and peered around it, then quickly released it with a disarming smile when Starscream turned his head to glare.

“I have always had an affinity for the scientific method,” the seeker sniffed, “but lately my intellectual contributions have been ignored for the brutish beast brought forth by that miserable Shockwave!” Starscream had left off of his observation, and Knock Out took the opportunity to catch him gently by the upper arms, casually beginning to maneuver him away from the still-foaming sample. 

“Now, now, Commander,” he began, “no need to get your turbines in a twist.” That earned him another hard look, which was ignored as he ever so slowly began to exchange their positions. “Personally, I’m delighted that you’re taking part in my little experiment. No one else on the ship has the capacity to understand this work, after all.”

Starscream tilted his helm, a small, smug smile coming to his face. “Well, naturally.” His wings fluttered slightly as he shifted in the doctor’s grip. The movement caught Knock Out’s optics, and the seeker grinned when he saw the interested gaze. He flicked his wings again, in deliberate, attention-catching movements. “Something to be said for flight after all, doctor?”

Knock Out started - then grinned and gripped Starscream’s arms a little tighter. “I suppose it _does_ have its charms,” he purred, moving well into the other’s personal space. The seeker pulled back slightly, as if deciding how to respond. Suddenly he leaned in again, resting his hands on Knock Out’s hips, long claws scratching lightly at the flexible plating there. They shared a look, each testing the other out as they shifted together. 

“Now now, Knock Out,” Starscream began, his voice a pleasingly rough growl, “Perhaps we-” he cut off as his optics suddenly widened in horror, staring at something just over Knock Out’s shoulder. “The experiment!” He elbowed his way roughly out of Knock Out’s embrace, shoving the doctor to the side. The red mech let out a yelp, clutching his abdomen and glaring murderously at Starscream, but the seeker paid him no attention as he hurried to the lab table. Their neglected project had progressed far past roiling and bubbling, and had become a black, seething mass that had eaten through the glass dish holding it, and was now making headway though the tabletop. Thin spirals of acrid orange smoke had begun rising from it. Still muttering under his breath, Knock Out approached the mess, and poked gingerly at it with a glass stirring rod. It shifted slightly and gave off a hissing crackle. Knock Out winced and glanced at Starscream, who was glaring at the disaster.

“How could you have let this happen?” the seeker shrieked.

“What!?” Knock Out shouted, suddenly and deeply offended. He balled his fists at his sides. “How is this my fault? _You_ were the one preening and showing off like some-”

“How dare you!” Starscream’s voice had reached a pitch that should have been impossible. He leaned in, one digit pointed in Knock Out’s face. “If you had been able to keep your _claws_ off me, this never-” 

The mass on the table chose that moment to complete its journey through the surface, and landed on the floor with an impressive, if sticky-sounding, explosion. The two mechs screamed in unison, clutching each other as they stared in shock. The former experiment made a noise like steam escaping, and promptly deflated. 

Slowly, Knock Out peeled his digits from Starscream’s plating. Starscream, for his part, seemed mildly uncomfortable, his gaze shifting as he too released his hold. Knock Out looked thoughtful for a moment, then smiled.

“Commander, what do you say we start over?” He gestured to the other lab table, still pristine and ready. “I’m sure our combined skills can produce something excellent this time.” He turned up his smile and moved behind Starscream, placing his hands on the seeker’s shoulders. “Let’s put all this behind us, hmm?” he murmured.

Starscream crossed his arms and grumbled, but he allowed himself to be maneuvered lightly towards the fresh station. “Very well,” he muttered. “Why don’t you show me what you’re capable of, Knock Out?” His frown had been replaced by a sly grin, though his optics narrowed as he glanced back at the ruined experiment under the table. “And perhaps find someone to dispose of that disaster.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was really very silly. And maybe not very good. But fun to write!


	4. Inexorable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orion Pax tends to get what he wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey look, it’s the OTP. Have some fluffy feels before the storm.

Megatronus was exhausted. His joints creaked, the grit of the arena still trapped within, his hydraulics wheezed with low pressure, and the gash in his side, inexpertly welded by a nervous medic that he suspected the pitmaster had dragged in off the street, ground against delicate wires as he moved. To the Pit with solvent - he was going directly to recharge, preferably for a full cycle. He dragged himself on, down the hall past the barracks, to his hard-won prize - a room of his own. It was tremendously small, especially for his frame type - little more than a carved-out hollow in the wall - but it had a berth, and a door, that were entirely his own. Privacy in the Pits was a near-impossibility, and Megatronus valued it immensely. He jostled open his door, the hinges giving a rusty squeak - 

and gazed in fond frustration at the red-and-blue figure on his berth.

He supposed that he should have foreseen this. When the archivist had first contacted him he had expected to meet a fragile scholar, and had been pleasantly surprised to be proven wrong. While Orion Pax was remarkably bright and thoughtful for his status and function, he more closely resembled a cheerful glacier - kindly, patiently wearing down all opposition in his way. It was a trait which Megatronus had found most useful in their work, and he was not exempt from its effects. 

"Orion." The mech on his berth kicked his pedes slightly, but gave no other sign of waking. Megatronus closed the door behind him softly, crossing the space between entryway and berth in one broad step. He tried again, tapping gently on a hip joint with a long claw. 

"Orion." This time there was a shift, and a flicker as static-filled optics onlined - only to blink off again. Megatronus shook him slightly. 

"Mghurf."

"Orion, I am very weary, and would like the use of _my_ berth." This time the smaller mech raised his helm from where it rested on his arms, optics onlining more clearly. Megatronus could almost hear his processor booting up. With a stretch, Orion sat up, shuffling to the edge of the berth, but not leaving it entirely.

"'M sorry - fell into recharge waiting for you."

Megatronus briefly considered lifting Orion off of the berth, but his joints ached at the thought - and really, it was rather pleasant to be waited for. Though, on that subject...

"Tell me, Orion," he began as he settled himself on the slab as best he could, "how long have you been waiting here? If you wished to see me, why not seek me out after the bout?"

Orion nudged up against him, still dazed. "That wasn't the you I came to see."

Megatronus raised his head, optics suddenly bright with anger. "I wear no masks, wherever I am. If your distaste for the Pit is so great-"

“You know I don’t disdain what you must do to function. It’s only, in the arena, you must be what others need to see. The mech you are there is a part of you, but here, you need only be yourself.” Orion’s voice was firm, for all its softness, but his face was so open, so gentle that Megatronus felt his frustration drain away as quickly as it had arisen.

“And what would you have of me, as myself alone?” He inclined his head, a tiny smile forming. 

Orion’s answering smile was warm as he tugged the other’s great limbs, arranging them so that the gladiator’s helm rested on his thighs. He began rubbing his thumbs up and down tense neck wiring. “Nothing but this,” he murmured. Megatronus allowed his systems to slow as his plating settled, and as he drifted into recharge he wondered vaguely if anyone had ever found it possible to deny Orion Pax.


End file.
